


Slight Chance of Showers

by EnzymaticWitch



Series: PeterMartin Week 2020 [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Embarrassment, M/M, Peter Lukas being Peter Lukas, Trans Character, Vaginal Fingering, weather references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27504451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnzymaticWitch/pseuds/EnzymaticWitch
Summary: Peter helps Martin relax.PeterMartinWeek 2020 Day 3: Weather
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas
Series: PeterMartin Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006869
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Slight Chance of Showers

Martin expected his dreams to become more mournful, melancholic as he became further entwined with Peter Lukas. Perhaps the nightmares of Jane Prentiss would visit him again, the soft knock-knock-knock and the even softer writhing of worms. Instead, he dreams about spreadsheets and payroll deadlines.

It’s Wednesday, which means he’s already behind on the scheduling that’s due by Friday. How Elias managed to last by using nothing but Excel is perhaps scarier than whatever his eldritch machinations are. Martin let’s put a frustrated sigh, realizing he’s not even half-way done.

His patience is already holding on by a thread when he feels Peter’s big hands rest on his shoulders.

“You seem stressed,” Peter says, thumbs rubbing circles into Martin’s neck.

“Well, you know. This scheduling won’t finish itself,” Martin replies. “Doing your job takes a lot of effort!” A job Martin wasn’t trained for and had barely any experience in. Maybe if he was able to leave the Institute he could use these skills on his CV — hah!

“Perhaps all you need is a little break, hm?” One of Peter’s hands drags down Martin’s front, stopping to tease at the crotch of his pants.

“Here? Christ Peter,” Martin sighs, hands wrapping around Peter’s wrist, though he thrusts into the friction. “I’m really rather busy, you know. You may need to make an appointment.”

Peter hums, pressing a kiss to Martin’s neck. “Can’t you set aside ten, fifteen minutes?” Martin lets out a sudden laugh.

“Fifteen minutes? What kind of man do you take me for?” he asks, scandalized. “We shouldn’t. Some of us have actual work to do.”

Peter slips his hand into Martin’s trousers, fingers dancing dangerously close to his cock. “That’s not a no, Martin.”

Martin sighs, eyelids fluttering. “We cannot fuck over the desk again. _Cannot._ We broke a monitor last time and I will not have that conversation with IT again.”

“I could just handle them myself—“ Martin turns his head to glare at Peter directly. “Alright, alright.”

Peter pulls Martin out of his chair and leads him around the desk. He pushes the chair on the other side of the desk to one side and gestures towards the freshly vacuumed office floor.

Martin gives Peter a Look. “You really think I would get carpet burn for you?”

“Of course not, your highness,” Peter replies, shrugging off his coat and laying on the floor. “See? Fit for a prince now.”

Martin bites back a comment about feeling incredibly romanced, instead choosing to sit on the offered coat. At least he’ll be able to get a quick fuck out of this, maybe let off some steam before returning to Excel purgatory.

They kiss, a thing Peter manages to be good at. He encourages Martin to lift his hips as he pulls his trousers and pants down. Straight to the point, another thing Martin appreciates about him, at least right now. Peter presses him back, following Martin and nipping at his exposed skin.

Martin tries to return the favor but Peter shakes his head. “Let me take care of you. You’ve been working so hard for me.”

Peter sits across Martin’s abdomen, using his body to hold Martin down and to block his view. The pressure is just this side of too much. “Peter you’re going to crush me!” he complains.

Peter hushes him though he does shift his weight. This is new, if a little strange. Martin stares at Peter’s back, seeing hints of powerful muscle flexing under his jumper.

Peter makes an appraising noise as he spreads Martin’s lips, stroking just below his cock. He runs the calloused pads of his fingers through the slick, then making firm little circles around Martin’s cock.

“Hm. Quite humid in here now,” Peter comments, bringing one hand up to taste Martin’s slick.

Martin can do nothing but take it, any struggling useless as the weight of Peter’s body pins him down. “Peter,” he says in a warning tone.

His hands return to Martin’s cunt, sinking a finger into his hole. “What? I’m simply commenting on the sudden sharp increase in moisture in the area.”

“You cannot—“ Martin bites back a cry when Peter inserts a second finger, fucking Martin rapidly. He uses two fingers from his other hand to stroke Martin’s cock, gathering slick to ease the way. Martin feels his orgasm building, his toes curling into the carpet as he tries harder to meet Peter’s thrusts.

Peter continues despite his warning, stroking that spot with precision while he rubs Martin’s cock faster and faster. With a sharp cry, Martin comes, fluid gushing forward over Peter’s hands and onto the carpet.

“Perhaps I should have brought an umbrella,” Peter snorts as he continues to play with Martin’s cock passed the point of oversensitivity, ignoring Martin’s attempts to wiggle away. “Strange, the weather didn’t say anything about rain.”

Martin covers his face with his hands, struck between the pulses of pleasure radiating from his cunt and embarrassment at Peter’s words. “I cannot believe you,” Martin pants. “The carpet—“

Peter gives a noncommittal hum. “I’ll have it cleaned. Do you think you can come like that again?”

Martin would pale if his face wasn't already so red. “N-no. Absolutely not. Peter—“

“Let’s find out!” Peter replies cheerily, fucking three fingers into Martin.

Martin stifles a shriek. Trying to close his legs just causes Peter to wriggle his fingers in his sopping cunt. Bracing in an attempt to buck Peter off results in Peter driving his fingers harder.

Martin stuffs a fist in his mouth, his hips making aborted little rolls to meet Peter’s thrusts. His second orgasm builds fast.

“‘Noooo, don’t make me squirt, Peter! Not on the carpet!’ Hmph, should’ve known you’d enjoy this. You Beholding types are all alike,” Peter laughs, continuing to stroke Martin to another orgasm.

“Thar he blows!” Peter says with a laugh. Martin cries out as he comes, body shuddering, muscles clenching. He squirts with enough force to hit the door on the other side of the room.

Which is the exact moment Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London’s barges into the room. “Martin, I need—“

A stream of fluid hits Jon in a pantleg, partially splattering on his shoe. The Archivist looks down at himself before looking back up at the scene before him, his face rapidly reddening.

“I— ah,” Jon stutters.

“Ah. Hello, Archivist.”

Martin screeches something that might be a mix between Jon’s name and the sound of complete and total embarrassment.

Peter has the decency to look sheepish. “As you can see we need to, erm, fix the leak in the ceiling. Nasty storm blew through, you see.”

Martin can’t find it in himself to hit Peter. The man disappears into the Lonely in a snap, leaving Jon staring at Martin and Martin staring at the ceiling.

Martin sighs after several moments. “Close the bloody door, Jon.”


End file.
